Uncle Bill Courtney

 

The longer I live, the more of my friends I lose. I suppose in part because some of my closest friends have been older than me. Last week, as I was sitting in my easy chair, Jan came upstairs and let me know that Uncle Bill had passed away. I knew that he was dealing with cancer, but I thought it was more or less under control. When I spoke to his oldest son, Doug, he mentioned that Bill had been hospitalized for pneumonia. I guess in his weakened state, his body just couldn't fight off the inevitable anymore. I wish he could have hung on for a little longer. Jan and I were planning a trip down south in October, and we had planned on dropping in and seeing Bill and his wife Sally. His passing is a bittersweet reminder that we only have today to make a phone call, or send a card or letter or drop in on a neighbor or friend. Tomorrow isn't guaranteed to any of us.

I first met Bill when I was in the navy, almost fifty years ago.  I think it must have been the beginning of 1974 when the ship I was stationed on in Key West was decommissioned and I was assigned to another one in Charleston South Carolina. Driving around the base, I realized I didn't want to live in the housing that the navy provided for the enlisted men, surrounded by thousands of other sailors. I wanted to live off the base. We dropped in at a realtor that we had passed by and he showed us a little cement block house located on a dirt road behind the real estate office. The only other house on the road was Bill and Sally's place.  I can't imagine that Bill was any too happy to have a young Yankee couple moving in beside him, but he never expressed any displeasure. It seems like most weekends he was off in his little fiberglass skiff fishing, so I didn't see him much initially. Eventually we saw more of each other and developed a friendship. He took me out with him a few times in his boat, and showed me a whole new way of fishing using crickets and a cane pole. It was so much fun. He had quite an accent though, and I had to strain to understand what he was saying at times, but he was always patient with me, and would repeat himself if need be.

 Bill and Sally grew to be good friends. Lord knows how many gallons of sweet iced tea that I drank at their house. In time, because Sally was an elder in a church that believed that we were living in the end times, and God was providing a place for his people in places like Alaska, they moved. I missed them both. After they had been living there for some time, Bill came back to Charleston for a visit. He didn't say a whole lot about the way things were up north. I wish he would have, I might not have joined him a year or so later. It wasn't until I moved there that I found out how much he hated that place, and some of the elders who were in charge at the time.

Things on the farm, the Christian community that we moved to along with Bill and Sally and dozens of others, were challenging, to put it mildly.  I discovered shortly after I got there that Bill was still smoking cigarettes- a no-no on the farm. It didn't take long and I was joining him, sneaking off to the woods and begging for one of his Pall Malls. We were the outsiders, or the rebellious ones, something that we liked just fine.

Because neither of us cared for the farm, and all the malarky that went on there, we joined Terry Barry working at the Thompson Fish House.  Somehow I was stuck sliming fish and standing in ice water and fish guts, while Uncle Bill was given the assignment of driving the fork lift. He mastered the art of driving it so well, that the only time he had to leave the seat was to use the bathroom or to go to lunch.

Bill used to be privy to what happened in the elders meetings because Sally would share with him. He would in turn share with me all the unsettling issues and we would commiserate about what was happening.

Before he moved to the farm, Bill was a foreman for a construction company, an outfit that used to build shopping malls and whatnot. I watched him working around the farm or in town  and was amazed that he could get so much done so quickly while appearing to move so slow. He just knew what needed done, and didn't waste any time doing it.

He and Sally left the farm before we did, and moved back to South Carolina. His boys lived in Alaska still, so they came to visit them and the grandkids  a few times. Bill had a soft spot for kids and dogs and would spoil both if given a chance. 

I regret that I never made it back to visit them before he left us. He may be gone from this earth, but he'll always live in our hearts. 

Goodbye Uncle Bill, I'll see ya sometime. I hope they have fish in heaven, we'll have a blast.